Nothing to Give
by morganagain
Summary: SayidLibbyA continuation of Islandpalm's fic, Running on Empty. Sayid attempts to find some time alone.


_**Title: **Nothing to Give  
**Author:** Islandpalm and Morganagain  
**Rating:** PG  
**Featured Characters:** Sayid, Libby  
__**Disclaimer:** All people, places, and things Lost are copyright JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and the ABC Network. This fanfiction is for entertainment only, and I seek neither credit for nor profit from the characters and plot of the television series._

**Nothing to Give**

Sunlight filtered through the brilliant green canopy of the jungle, causing the sweat on Sayid's shoulders and arms to glisten. With a swipe of his bandana-covered wrist, the Iraqi wiped his dripping brow, then took yet another log from the pile and positioned it just so. In one fluid movement, he brought the axe down, nearly splitting the log in two. A final hit completed the task, and he tossed the split logs onto an ever-growing pile. He was getting better at this. Early on, it would have required several additional hits of the axe, and after five or six logs, his hands would have bled. Now, after close to two months, he had honed his skill, and hardened calluses acted as sure as gloves.

He sensed her before he saw her. It could have been the snap of a twig, although he didn't recall hearing one. He just knew that she was there, standing still, watching him. At first Sayid ignored her, grabbing another log and lining it up before he raised the axe yet again. Her arrival was not welcome. He had come out to split wood because it was necessary for survival. The added benefit was that he would be left alone, away from the sympathetic glances of the other castaways, and away from the awkwardness that he felt around her in particular.

"Would you like some water?" Libby queried

Sharply the axe came down, not quite straight this time, splaying the wood rather than splitting it.

"Sayid? I brought you some water. Would you like some?"

Instead of answering, he raised the axe again, this time bringing it down straight and successfully splitting the log. His head bowed for a moment, then Sayid lowered the axe to rest on the ground and he turned to her.

"Thank you, yes, I would like some," he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

"You've been out here a long time today," Libby smiled, trying to engage him.

"We need firewood," he stated the simple fact as he took the bottle she offered and began to drink thirstily.

"Does anyone ever help with this or are you the sole woodsman."

"Sawyer has helped on occasion but I am afraid his arm is not yet healed."

"You and Sawyer, huh?"

"I can assure you we are not out here together." Sayid wiped the sweat from his brow as he spoke.

"Do I sense some animosity?"

"I have no real desire to hear him refer to me as Mohammed. Would you like to know what he calls you? I believe it is "Dr. Ruth." With a pause he added, "Do you know who that is?"

"Ouch, She's a sex therapist, dwarflike and speaks with a funny accent. Should I be insulted?"

"Hardly, I am sure you have noticed he has a name for everyone. He quite likely is hoping you will provide him with a private therapy session. Sawyer seems to live under the delusion that all the women on the island secretly desire him."

"Not this woman. I've never been attracted to guys with egos. Seems to me there's more to this story. You two don't like each other do you?"

"We have learned to tolerate one another." Sayid replied, tiring of both the small talk and the subject matter.

"Which implies that there was a time when you didn't."

"Do you ever stop asking questions?" Sayid said in that slightly perturbed tone, his patience wearing thin.

"Sorry it's an occupational hazard, it's what I do best." Libby replied, with a sheepish grin.

Was that not what he did best? He found it intriguing that they were both communications experts, of sorts. He was not sure that he liked that aspect of her character.

"Why exactly did you kiss me?" Libby shifted gears.

She took him by surprise. He thought that had been evident. He had not kissed her, at least in the way she implied.

"Would you like me to apologize again?"

"No, actually…I was hoping you could kiss me again," her voice sounding shaky.

With bewilderment, he watched as she slowly moved in for a kiss, a kiss as gentle as their first.

He made no attempt to pull away, nor did he attempt to deepen the kiss. Her lips were soft and inviting, and he knew his body would respond if he allowed it. His reticence, however was clearly obvious.

Libby backed away as her eyes pooled and she tried to avert his gaze.

"I guess I owe you an apology this time."

Sayid fingers touched her face.

"I have nothing to offer you, only my body. My soul has been long dead and my heart is with…"

"What if I said your body was enough for the time being?"

"Your tears tell me that would not be the truth."

Sayid reached to wipe them away but she retreated. In an attempt to ease her embarrassment he continued,

"I am quite flattered by your offer but…"

"Stop, please, don't say anymore, this is humiliating enough. I'm fine, really. It was a temporary moment of weakness. It's just been a long time, you know?"

He did know. How long had it been for him, before Shannon? Before they had connected in a way he never expected.

"You Americans have an expression, 'looking for love in all the wrong places."

He hoped to lighten the mood.

Libby feigned a smile "It's not love I'm looking for, comfort maybe, escape definitely, not love."

"Love, comfort, escape, are all quite elusive here. I was fortunate enough to have found all three…for a short time. Be careful what you wish for."

Sayid picked up the water bottle and took a long draught before setting it down near his backpack. He grabbed the axe again, now more aware of its weight than he had been before Libby had come. Rather than having refreshed him, the break seemed to have only made him aware of how exhausted he was. With a glance, he tallied how many more felled trees needed to be split. The Iraqi doubted that he would make it through the lot of them, but if he didn't finish, there was always tomorrow. There was always tomorrow.

"Thank you for the water, Libby. It is time for me to get back to work," he said briefly before grabbing a log and placing it in front of him.

In his peripheral, Sayid watched as Libby turned to walk away. She had only gone a few steps when she suddenly paused and turned back to face him.

"Can I help?" she asked.

"Help?"

"Yes, help," she continued. "I can see there is a lot to do. There must be something I can do to help."

"Libby, the work is hard –"

The blonde flushed slightly before she spoke. "I'm not afraid of hard work," she said, "On the other side of the island we all pulled our own weight. We had to." She held out her roughened hands, "See, not exactly the hands of a clinical psychologist anymore, are they?"

"I did not mean –"

Again, she cut him off. "I know what you meant, Sayid, and I appreciate it. And I promise I won't push you again. But I want to help. Now tell, me what can I do?"

"Alright," Sayid smiled slightly as he looked at the woman before him, "you can start stacking the split wood like so." He took several logs and laid them out, creating two columns that had a number of logs crossed one way then another, layer by layer. He worked quickly and before long had two short stacks created, about the 6 feet apart. "Now stack the wood between these two columns."

The Iraqi watched as Libby marched resolutely over to the pile of logs and began to lay them lengthwise as he had shown her. She worked steadily, and if she knew that he was watching her, she didn't show it. Eventually, he raised the axe and began his own work; only this time, he was not alone. And for some reason, her company no longer bothered him.

The two worked comfortably for another hour or so, stopping only briefly for water or fruit. Libby was true to her word - she labored diligently and did not push him again. Whether it was humiliation or understanding that caused her to retreat, Sayid was not sure, but he was grateful. As they walked back to camp, both tired from their efforts, a thought occurred to him. Perhaps he did have something to give after all. Perhaps friendship would be enough.


End file.
